To say that I love Christmas would be an understatement. From the cold weather, the nine dawn masses (which I’ve successfully completed in between rushing for last-minute law-related stuff and parties), the rabid anticipation as the clock strikes twelve and everybody in the family gathers for the Noche Buena, the opening of gifts, to the general feeling of gratitude for having a complete and tightly knit family…. Christmas has always been a reminder of how good life gets.
But this Christmas is different for a certain reason.
My sister, to whom I am very close, will be leaving for work abroad early next year. It’s what she always wanted, and with the miserable state of employment here in the country, there isn’t really any other choice, is it?
Her leaving means that I’ll lose the last strand of any semblance of a social life that I have. I did mention before that I live a very routinary life, mainly composed of staying in my apartment for the school days and going home on the weekends. During these days we’d banter around, talk about our common sphere of interests, and do crazy stuff together whenever time permits. So yes, she’s my sister and, at the risk of being teased by her on the off-chance that she reads this, my best friend.
Oh sister, how will I manage without you around? You’re one of the few if not the only one who understands my jokes, who actually cares, and who’s just there. So tell me, what do I do now?
At the risk of being called insensitive, of course I am deeply sad about the plight of the Sendong victims. The problem is I haven’t done anything of note to actually help—and this is what gets me. I feel the need to do something more than empty words and donations. But what, exactly? I am at a loss.
My prayers are with them.
Oh boy. Look at the date. Around these days last year I was getting to know a certain someone. We eventually got into a relationship, which lasted for a little less than six months and which was my last relationship.
For the record, I really did think that he was the one. I guess I should say sorry to myself. I’m pretty sure I’m romanticizing and reading more into the relationship than I should be, but I really did think that was the one.
Of course I’ve moved on, but what bothers me is my complete inability to make a connection. Dates can be a chore; I find it ridiculously difficult to sustain a conversation during such—laughing on cue, responding appropriately, and so on and so forth.
To be honest I’m getting troubled. I wonder when HE will come around.
Oh, and before I forget: MERRY CHRISTMAS!